The Great Turf War
by Dac-57
Summary: 100 years ago, the Great Turf War raged on, and throughout it's durration, countless Inklings and Octarians, as well as other species, would lose their lives. A great many lives were changed by the war, for better or for worse; This story will follow the experiences of four of these many lives, and their time in the War.
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

It is a time of uncertainty. With sea levels on the rise, the two most powerful empires of the continent, the Inklings and Octarians, are left to bicker over their established territories. As the political climate heated up, both sides and their allies mobilized for war; while all this occurred in the foreground, all Octarians and Octolings residing in Inkling-controlled territory were deported.

The Octarian generals, fully aware of the formidable Inkling defences that were now being built up along the territory divide and the Sea Urchin's mobilization if the Inklings were to call them in for war, had met in the Octarian capital city, Ijonu, to fully discuss these matters at length. With uncertanty in the air, it was up to this four day meeting to bring about a new confidence within the uper areas Octarian command.

* * *

"Given the circumstances of things, and the fact that war will most likely break out very soon..", said the Octarian Major General Stross, a middle-aged male with dark purple tentacles (who had been promoted to "Commander of The Octarian Army" following the success of his strategy in the previous war), to his many subordinates in the planning room of the Octarian's Department of Military Affairs, "...it has been determined that an overall plan to follow should war break out must be created as soon as possible. Our relationship with the Inklings has been stable, but there are fears that it may not remain like that soon. With the unfortunate passing of two of our most talented diplomats, and the deterioration of our diplomatic ties, I have come to believe that these fears may soon be realized. The Inkling defensive line on our borders, hypothetically, will be impassable. Therefore, we need to figure out a vunerable spot and exploit it. This is my task to you, one that I will be working along side each of you to complete before our fears are realized." The generals spent the next few days plotting possible courses of military action, examining every little detail in the Inkling defences and surrounding areas in search of a "weak point" in its seemingly impervious armor. They often found themselves frustrated, and often times bickered with one-another , but nevertheless persisted in their efforts; finally, on the final day of the meeting, the plan was finalized and reviewed by

"...Here is how the plan will work," said Major General Stross, notioning towards the large map on the planning room's table, "We'll have a small number of our forces draw the Inklings into battle along their defence line while our main force crosses through this portion of land to the northeast of line."

At that point, a younger general, H. Nilsson, then spoke up. "Major General sir, with all due respect, that portion of land is in Jellyfish territory. If we were to march our troops through there, there's a high chance that-"

"Yes, General Nilsson, we are all fully aware of the land is in possession of the Jellyfish and has it's independence guarenteed by the Horseshoe Crab's little empire in the south, and there is possibility of dragging the both of them into a war; and, might I ask you, what good will that alliance actually be? Both of their armies combined would not be enough to halt the advance of our soldiers. Besides, I believe a deal can be brokered between the Horseshoes that will ensure their neutrality. Now would that be all, general, or do have yet more insight to share with us?"

Nilsson, in a state of embarasment, responded "...That would be all, Major General."

"Good. Now as I was saying, before our dear general so rudely interjected, our forces will cross through the Jellyfish territory, and from that point, we divide our forces. One half circumvents the Inkling defences to aid our decoy group, while the other half begins to encircle the Inkling capital. When the first half rejoins with the second, both will enter the capital. We'll force the Inklings into a quick surrender and send our troops to deal with the Sea Urchins, if they choose to join in and attack our eastern forces, and our ally to the south can assist in dealing with anything of the sort. The entire campaign should not take more than two months, which will be plenty of time to deal with the Urchins before they can fully mobilize."

As the Major General stood before his subordinates, he took a sigh and said, "I do hope it does not come to it, but something like this is nessisary. If the Inklings truly want war, then we shall give them a war. For now, we wait to see if they will make the first move. You are all dismissed." As his subordinates began to leave, he turne to gaze out of the large window in the room, and out to the graying sky; a storm was gathering on the horrizon. All he hoped was that his stategy would be enough to bring victory for the empire he served, should the need call for it to be used.

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

 **Well, I'm working with an idea that came to me a few days ago, which is basing Splatoon's Great Turf War off of the Great War/World War I of our time. If people somehow are enamored by the idea, I'll go ahead and post the first act of the first chapter by the end of this month.**

 **(Also, none of the territories have just one singular species living in it; it's all a bit of a "mixing pot" if you will (granted, it is to an extent), but the species named is the dominent one present, which can drastically vary depending on species)**


	2. Chapter 1 - The Coming Storm - Act I

_**12 August, 1914; Late Conch Era**_

* * *

 _Thursday_

 _There's a strange amount of trucks headed toward the northeast. When I went to get the mail, I asked some people on the street about it. They said that the trucks were for the mobilization, transporting equipment and soldiers to the defense line in case the Octarians declare war. I'm rather uneasy about this whole thing, especially after Rhys' deportation._

Fritz, a nineteen year old inkling with cyan tentacles, closed his journal and thought for a moment about the latest developments: relations between Inklings and Octarians were becoming more and more strained as the days went by, and on top of that, anyone who was either Octarian found to be of Octarian decent were rounded up by the local police and swiftly deported to Octarian teritiory; such was the way his close friend Rhys went…

But it would be unhealthy of him to linger on the past, he thought to himself; And besides, there was nothing preventing him from writing to him at any given time. He'd have to remind himself to do that later, once he finds his new adress.

Fritz then walked over to the dining table where he put down the mail he had gotten earlier and went through it. While what he received was mostly bills and pamphlets concerning the mobilization, urging all able-bodied inklings of age to enlist, there was one in particular that stood out: it was in an official-looking envelope. Fritz's blood went cold, as he had an idea of what it was.

He then carefully opened the envelope and took out the letter in it. It read the following:

" _Greeting: You are hereby notified that you have now been selected for immediate military service. You will, therefore, report to this Local Board named below at:_

 _ **INKOPOLIS COURT HOUSE**_ _,_

 _at_ _ **3:30PM**_ _, on the_ _ **13**_ _day of_ _ **AUGUST**_ _, 1914 for physical examination._

 _ **Failure to do so is a misdemeanor, punishable by one year's imprisonment, as well as your immediate induction into military service**_ _."_

Fritz put the notice with the rest of the checked mail on the table and sat down. "So then," he thought to himself, "Heh. It's actually happening..."

After recovering from the startling development, Fritz got out a piece of paper and began to write out a letter to his parents explaining what's happening, as well as a last will and testament. After he had finished, he sealed the letter and will in an envelope, applied the proper amount of postage, and went outside to place it in the nearby post box. Fritz then went back inside his house to enjoy the little time he had left to himself before he had to report at the designated building, deciding to write a letter to his close friend; someone had to care for his house while he was away.

* * *

 **August 13**

 **Court House - Eastern Inkopolis**

Fritz arrived at the designated building at the precise time of 3:30 PM, as the notice form "requested" him to do. Joining him inside the building were other inklings around his age of 21, with the exception of a few that looked to be in their late 40's. While the majority of inklings present were male, there were a few females scattered here and there, most likely volunteers for medical positions. Surprisingly to Fritz, there were even Anemones and Sea Urchins present as well, albeit there was only two of each species present; unsurprisingly, all were wearing official-looking uniforms and standing away from the general crowd of inklings getting their physical examinations. "They must be training advisors then…", Fritz thought to himself.

After Fritz's physical examination was complete and he was cleared, he went to retrieve his uniform from the adjacent room. Fritz went up to the desk where the uniforms were being handed out and handed the clerk a slip of paper that Fritz received when he was cleared, which told his exact measurements. Within a minute, the clerk had gotten the uniform and equipment needed. "Here you are. Kit bag, tunic, trousers, cap, cap badge, your numerals, two sets of underclothes, three pairs of socks, your mess tin, a belt, and webbing. Changing area is at your right." Fritz, having issue holding all the materials given to him, simply nodded and went off to put the uniform on. The uniform itself wouldn't exactly be what the younger squids would call "fresh", but the uniforms did their jobs nonetheless, it being making the soldiers distinguishable.

After Fritz put on his uniform (which was surprisingly comfy, given how rough the exterior texture was), he walked out to the center field to join the other inklings in training. On the way, he overheard an inkling complaining to the NCO present about not being given a pair of trousers. The NCO, looking rather annoyed by this inkling, gave a responce Fritz could only assume to be snarky, as the room he walked out of soon erupted in laughter. Outside, Fritz's earlier presumption was soon proven correct, as the Anemones and Sea Urchins were both instructing the large group, displaying various weapons and how to properly use them; after the general demonstration had ended, the inklings were then divided into groups of four and instructed to practice weapon usage in the training course that had been set up the day prior.

Before being allowed in the training course, each inkling was to retrieve a back bag with one of the new "Bamboozler" ink rifles attached to the side and a set of two ink grenades placed inside the main compartment; The training consisted of practicing both ranged and melee combat (via bayonets) with dummies dressed in the uniform of the inkling's would-be adversaries. While each squad started out poorly, they were quickly assisted by the instructors. Soon, after some hours of training, the entire group was at top efficency with both ranged and close quarters combat, and were rigorously drilled in the proper line formations and to follow their NCO's exact orders. It was then that the group was now ready for combat, should the need arise.

After the training had ended, the group, now officially grouped with other seperate companies to form a battalion, were taken via truck convoy to the eastern side of Inkopolis, where they would be assigned a officer and board a train to reinforce the defences at the village of Yperus, a village on the border of Inkling and Octoling territory. That is, if the Octarians declare war, which was still very much a possibility to most. "This is all so pointless," Fritz thought to himself, "things will all cool down in less than a month, and everything will be back to the way it was."

Fritz couldn't be more wrong.

* * *

 **August 15**

 _Saturday_

 _The train dropped us off near Yperus, and my group spent the last two days walking towards the Octarian lines. Today, we heard some cannon fire in the distance. I've been getting rather nervous about things, I don't want to have to kill. Fortunately, I'm positioned in the rear of the battalion. I won't have to worry about it much._

After the Octarians declared war, Fritz's battalion was one of many sent to counter the Octarian advancement in the region; his battalion was to reinforce the units already stationed near Yperus and push the Octarians back over the border. When they finally arrived near the village, a day after being dropped off by the train, they joined up with the few defending troops present and began their march across the hilly plains towards the Octarian camp adjacent to a forest.

After nearly two hours, and with the Octarian camp directly below the hill slope, the commanding officer, a major who was given command of both groups, gave them his orders: "Halt! Affix bayonets!", For the moment, there was an uneasy silence as the group anxiously awaited the order to charge the enemy. When the order to attack the camp came though, and the battalion charged forward immediately. The sudden and unexpected attack caught the Octarians by surprise, and while some attempted to put up a desperate but ineffective counter-attack, the majority fled towards the forest.

The charging Inklings let out a cheer as they continued tearing through the Octarian camp; their moral soared as everything was seeming going in the Inkling's favor. Their total victory seemed inevitable.

That was until the Octarians reached the forest, where they had hidden their new fully automatic turrets, powered by steamed water and capable of firing ink at a faster pace than a ink rifle ever could; They had expected an attack like this to happen. The very second the Octarians reached those turrets, what started out as a minor skirmish soon became a slaughter for the Inklings. The turrets, now manned, began to mow down the charging Inkling rows, efficiently splatting each as they blindly charged forward. It didn't take long for the remnants in the back to turn and begin a hasty retreat. The majority were individually gunned down as they fled for their lives, with the gunners only ceasing fire once the last Inkling had shot down.

 **Octatian Reserve Camp - 1 minute later**

The Octarian gunners surveyed the now-death-ridden landscape in search of any more inkling troops advancing. After being sure another assault was not coming by their scouts, one of the gunners spoke to the Octarian senior officer in charge of the entire unit. "That appears to be the last of them sir" Tjhe officer smiled as he responded to the gunner. "Good. Stay at the ready lest they try another assault." The gunner saluted and responded with a "Yes, sir."

The officer then spoke to his adjutant, "I want two of the best scouts in the regiment to check through the area and look for survivors. If they find any, bring them back here alive. Once that is done, gather the regement as a whole and prepare to have them move west. We have a schedule to keep here, and those train lines must be captured." The adjutant nodded and went off to the scout's tents to inform them of their next mission, and after going to gather the regement.

 **-Four minutes later-**

"Ugh, they said we wouldn't be anywhere near this…" said one of the Octoling scouts, in sheer disgust and discomfort. "Be quiet. We have our orders and we will follow through with them." said the other scout, mildly irritated with the former, to which said former groaned in aghast. "Hey, Blyth." - "What is it now, Joce?" - "I found survivors." Blyth went over to where Joce was to see the alleged survivors, and sure enough, there were two inklings showing signs of life; one was in squid form attempting to crawl away, and the other was already unconscious due to a loss of blood. "You take the one to the left, I'll take the other one." Blyth went over to the one still crawling and, after a very brief struggle, Blyth threw the inkling over his shoulders; at this time, Joce had already gotten the other Inkling, showing slight discomfort at some blood getting on her uniform. The two walked back to the Octarian base camp in the area, where they dropped the two Inklings off by the medical tent before reporting back to their senior officer.

 **END OF ACT I**

* * *

 **Author's Note: Due to unforseen complications, as well as editing hiccups, it took longer to publish then originally planned;  
** **If there are still those interested in this idea, let it be known that I will push for an update on the month's end, but with school  
** **starting up again, do expect delays in the update period.**

 **[The expected delay period is estimated to be five days at least; it is subject to change]**

 **Additionally, as a bit of an explanation on the "Conch Era" area, since the game only specifies the "Mollusk Era", and seeing as it would  
essentially be prehistory for the splatoon timeline, I figured that there was no harm in creating another era in the timeline;  
as one could probably expect, their "Conch Era" would be similar to our early 20th century.**

 _ **[Note: This chapter, amongst others, have been altered somewhat; be assured, the changes do not effect the story in any drastic way.]**_


	3. Chapter 1 - Act II

**18 August, 1914; Late Conch era**

* * *

 _18 - Wednesday_

 _I arrived in Octarian territory a day after my deportation. Upon arriving in the nearest town, I was immediately drafted; the officials said that the army direly needed soldiers. I suppose it is understandable, but I do not understand why, after just arriving, I am now suddenly apart of the Octarian infantry; but none of that matters now. As I write in this boxcar, my unit is traveling by rail towards the Inkling village of Bivalé. According to my superior, a local garrison has been launching a series of counterattacks against the main advance, and my battalion is being sent in to assist the legion in combat. I still do not understand why such a pointless war is being fought, but I suppose that doesn't matter anymore. All I hope is that it ends quickly._

After finishing on the journal entry for the day, Rhys, a eighteen year old hybrid with dark red tentacles, then lied down near a box of munitions and went to sleep. His infantry regiment had been traveling for three days by train to get to Bivalé, and being forced to stop every hour or so to repair the rails the Inklings had destroyed in their retreat put them drastically behind schedule. The Octarian strategy had been successful starting out, but hindrances and unaccounted events (chiefly the destroyed rails, as well and the situation in Bivalé) threatened to bring the plan to ruination.

Rhys was still sleeping when a squadmate of his approached him in the early morning. "Hey, wake up. We've arrived," said the squadmate, shaking Rhys' shoulder a bit. "Wake up, now." Rhys, being somewhat of a heavy sleeper, did not wake immediately. His squadmate grew impatient. "Rhys, get up now!" he said in a louder tone; this time around, Rhys did wake up. "Uh...what is it, Ruben..?" he said half asleep. Ruben, a twenty-two year old male Octoling, a rarity amonst the species and one of the only two males in the regement, gave him a deadpan look in response, "We've arrived. Now get up and help me unload the rest of the munitions, you half-".

"Alright, alright, I'm getting up..." Rhys said, cutting him off in a groggy voice as he slowly got up from where he was sleeping.

Rhys went for the larger of the remaining munitions crates, and was going to pick it up before Ruben stopped him. "No, no, not that one. Take that one over there." Ruben then pointed towards a smaller munitions crate nearby the larger one. "Alright, fine.." Rhys said with a somewhat disappointed tone. Ruben then picked up the larger crate, and when Rhys had picked up the smaller, they both made their way out of the boxcar and towards their unit's base camp. "Y'know," Ruben started, "I don't know why the brass had you assigned to moving the munitions. I mean, you can barely pick up this box, and there's nothin' but filled ink canisters. I'm surprised you can even hold up your own rifle." It was true; Rhys had a scrawny physique and was the weakest soldier of the unit. He himself occasionally wondered why he had even been conscripted. The reason as to why followed in thought soon after: he was one of the best sharpshooters in the entirety of the Octarian army, to which sharpshooters were few in number, and hence an invaluable asset.

His skills could be credited to lessons from his father, who had in his youth, served in the Inkling 5th Foreign Battalion as the battalion's sharpshooter. The yarns that he would tell Rhys of his younger years of daring and adventure, protecting Inkling trade routes from those who would have sought to disrupt them. It was during a routine stay in western Inkopolis that his father and mother, and Inkling, met each other. His father retired from the 5th Foreign so he could devote more time to his new family, and especially his expected child; of course, this was nineteen years before there were ever any hints at war, before he and his family were forced from their home and deported.

Rhys and Ruben soon reached the tent where the rest of the unit's munitions were and put down their respective crates. Rhys was just about to walk back to the boxcar to get the remaining crates before Ruben stopped him. "You, stay here." Ruben said with a stern glare at Rhys. It was enough to make Rhys stay put in the munitions tent without any qualms.

When Ruben had returned to the munitions tent with the last two crates, he carefully placed them down where the other crates had been placed and threw Rhys a small, metallic container with "Rhys" inscribed on the top. "You left it in the train." Ruben said as he walked out of the tent. It contained a few mementos of places and individuals Rhys considered dear to him, as well as parchment and an ink quill to write letters. Rhys opened the container to make sure everything was still inside and not broken, and to his relief, everything was still there and intact. As Rhys closed the container, he exited the tent, and joined the other Octarians within the tent serving as the mess hall.

Inside the massive tent, there was already a line to receive the dinner rations for the day, and after waiting in line for ten minutes (as he was the last to enter the tent), Rhys received his dinner, which consisted of 1lb of hardened bread, 2lb of rice, 2lb of meat, and 2oz of water; the standard ration size for an Octarian soldier. It wasn't much, but it was enough to get most through the rest of the day without any hunger. Rhys learnt, at the expense of another, that if the bread is not soaked in water before eating, it could break the beak of whoever foolishly bites into it; Rhys made sure to soak the bread in the water until it became soft enough to eat without having to worry about any broken beaks.

After Rhys and the rest of the unit had finished, they were informed by their NCO that they would carry out their relief mission within the hour. The NCO went on the give the unit a briefing on the battle strategy on taking Bivalé. "Alright, listen up all of you. Our main force is pinned down at the village outskirts by a stubborn force of Inklings. Therefore, the strategy to break the force is simple. We'll divide ourselves into two divisions: Group A will go and reinforce the the legion and lure the Inklings into battle, while the Group B will circumvent the village and flank the Inklings. Everyone on the right is Group A, and everyone on the left is Group B." Rhys, since he had been standing on the right side, had been placed within Group A. "Group A, you're dismissed. Group B, we will discuss your part in detail. It's the crucial part of this relief mission." As soon as the NCO was finished speaking, all of Group A left for the barracks to prepare for the battle ahead.

 **\- 48 minutes later -**

With little delays, Rhys' half met up with the legion at the village outskirts to assist in preoccupying the Inklings while the other half of Rhys' unit flanked around. Massive trench lines had been dug by the legion to act as cover areas and to hold ground more efficiently, with ink turret nests having been set up along the trenchline to better defend. Every soldier in the legion were sore, their uniforms tattered and dirtied by a mixture of ink and mud from days of a fierce series of fighting; little did anyone know, this would be a prelude of things to come in the war.

Rhys positioned himself some few meters away from the fighting and set up his ink rifle on a tripod stand. His ink rifle, like every other sharpshooter in the Octarian army, only used cylindrical ink ammunition that had been specifically designed not to leave an ink trail back to the shooter after firing; this way, the enemy units would not know the exact location of a hidden sniper. The Octarians were on of the first to see the advantage of long-ranged weaponry that did not leave ink trails back to the source, and began the research of such weapons some twenty years before the war, and managed to have the first few working models out for mass production just days after war began.

Soon after setting up his rifle, he loaded the ammunition into it and took aim towards the ongoing battle and looked for targets. Not long after, he found one: an Inkling charging over to the Octarian positions and using a large piece of metal to block the incoming volley of ink being fired at him. "Three meters, angle two-two-seven" Rhys said to himself, adjusting the scope of his rifle and aiming at the narrow line near the top of the metal piece (which allows the inkling to see what's in front of him). "Slight breeze, northwest." Rhys continued, adjusting his rifle to accommodate for wind interference. With all the logistics taken care of, he prepared to take the shot. "Three...two...one…."

 _Bang_

The inkling was splatted by a well-aimed shot bolt of ink through the eye-hole.

Rhys pulled a small lever on his rifle, which ejected the now empty container the cylinder was in. He then took another cylinder, loaded it into his rifle, and then took aim once more. This time, his target was an Inkling that was not paying attention to his surroundings. "Four meters, angle six-five-nine. Slight breeze, northwest." Rhys said, as he made the proper adjustments to his rifle. "Three...two...one…"

 _Bang_

 _Splat_

Rhys pulled the lever on his rifle, reloaded, and took aim once more. This time, however, Rhys saw the Inking garrison seemingly retreat into the village. The legion's command, seeing an opportunity to break the garrison's defence once and for all, ordered a charge into the village in pursuit of the Inklings. Rhys did not follow the legion, as he believed the Inkling retreat to be a trap. He was soon proven wrong, however, as the legion and the other half of Rhys' battalion marched out of the village with the Inkling garrison in front of them. The garrison, after being surrounded completely surrounded and exausted after days of fighting with dwindling supplies, had surrendered.

The commanders of the legion personally thanked Rhys' unit for coming to their aid before continuing the advance towards the next town. The Octarian advance was now back on track, albeit dangerously delayed. It was not soon after that Rhys' unit was ordered to assist another piece of the advance that had been experiencing difficulties in taking an Inkling fort. After everything from their temporary base camp had been reloaded onto the train they arrived on and the unit had boarded, the train left for Shalön, the nearest town to the fort that was connected by rail and located near the Choral River, one of the last things standing between the Octarians and Inkopolis.

 **End of Act II**

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

 **This fic will be focusing on different characters each act,  
** **so Fritz's story will be continued in chapter 2.  
**

 **I also must apologize for the tardiness with the upload.  
Do keep in mind that I have schoolwork to be concerned  
with, as does my proofreader, so these delays are to be  
expected.**


	4. Chapter 1 - Act III

**31 August, 1914; Late Conch era**

* * *

 _My dear daughter,  
_ _I am fine. I am still at the base in Lüffdow, and me and the others in the squad haven't been sent out to fight yet. I miss spending time with you and your mother. How are you two doing? Are you both alright?  
_ _Your father,  
_ _Cyril_

After having finished writing the letter, Cyril put the letter into an envelope on his work desk; he would mail it to his family once he got the chance to. Cyril wasn't too keen on his current situation, and the war in general. When the war first broke out, he was called to report to the Inkling base in Lüffdow immediately, as he was one of the best strategists of the Inkling military. Unfortunately for Cyril, not only did he live near Sanlöw (a small village within the northeast of Inkling territory), which was quite the distance away from Lüffdow (in the central-eastern territory), but he was not permitted to visit his family at all, being told that he was needed at the base to help coordinate the defence.

For the Inklings, the war was not looking good: in just a few weeks, not only had they lost several key defensive lines (the one at Sanlöw having just recently collapsed after the supply lines broke down), but with the Octarians now three miles away from Lüffdow, and growing ever closer to the central provinces, and Inkopolis was practically under siege at this point. Another draft had gone out four days ago to scrape togther what defense force they could, and the five thousand conscripts were being hastily sent en masse via public transports (as there were far too few military vehicles at the ready) to the last line of defence: the Choral River, which Lüffdow was adjacent to.

The duty befell on Cyril to organize a defence along the Choral, which was not that simple of a task. Not only would he have to plot out the distribution of ink munitions to the conscripts to ensure that no area of the defence would run out, but he would also have to take the new Octarian weaponry into account. Not only would they be dealing with the ink turrets (now dubbed "steam guns" unofficially by both sides), which would negate roughly any counter-attack, but now there were reports coming in on the presence of sharpshooters using some new type of ammunition never seen before.

However, the Inklings did have a few aces up their sleeve. With the technological advances of the Octarian military unofficially noted, a few Inkling engineers took it upon themselves to provide the Inkling military with technological advances of their own. They were able to develop large mobile cannons that fired arcing shots high in the air before impact (a improvement of a previous design, which held a much shorter range and was a fairly delicate tool), as well as a portable, yet less reliable variant for infantry. The portable cannons were made possible due to old documents of what the humans called "mortars", and the abitious engineers were able to replicate the technology for the most part; within the war's first few days, both new weapons of war were ready for both field use and mass production.

Cyril's defence plan was near completion when one of his subordinates rushed into his office. "Sir, all three main Octarian columns are advancing quicker than we expected. At their pace, they'll be here within the hour," the subordinate said quickly before exiting. The news proved to be a complication to him, as he now only had a few precious seconds to put finishing touches on the defence strategy before sending it off to the NCOs commanding in the field in order to direct the soldiers as such. His plan was to divide the forces present into three seperate lines to guard the bridges at their edges with makeshift baracades, from which they would allow for some space between their force and the Octarians, especially if it came down to destroying the bridges. In that event, the force would retreat to the town outskirts, where the second defensive line was. He had placed the force under the general command of Captian Richard Harris, the NCO of the 23rd Infantry Battalion, who had the experience of another war under his belt. Cyril had hoped it would be enough to at least hold the line until the main force could arrive to reinforce the line.

* * *

 **One hour later**

The first wave of reinforcements had arrived just mere minutes before the Octarians began their assault along the Choral, and were hastily positioned along the three bridges that the Octarians were approaching from. As the battle began, it looked like it would become a stalemate (mainly due to each side's respective new weapons), Cyril phoned Captian Harris on the status of the lines and the incoming Octarian force.

"Field report, Captain Harris." After a few seconds of silence, the captain responded; on the captain's end of the line, there were the distant sounds of exploding artillery shells and various ink guns firing off. "There are at least two Octarian battle groups currently engaging us. They seem to be on the defensive now, so I relayed their positions to our heavy artillery." Cyril breathed a sigh of relief. "Good to hear things have not gone too south on your end." Cyril said, being sure to note the changes on the large map which detailed the current positions of the battle. "And captain, new orders from command. They want your unit to destroy the northmost bridge along the Choral and order a retreat to the second line. Our scouts report that the Octarian reinforcements will be ariving within the hour, and command wants that bridge destroyed quickly." … "We'll see what we can do, but with the Tako keeping us down, it's going to take a while"

"Understood, captain." Cyril said as he hung up the phone, and continued to plan formations out with the newly gained information with two other high-ranking officers. "Seems that new term is becoming popular with the soldiers." he said to himself. He had no idea who was the first to use "Tako" as a term for the Octarians, but all he knew that it was derived from an ancient dish called "takoyaki". Cyril, after plotting out the Octarian formations, went to telephone the lesser NCOs for their field reports.

* * *

 **At the front**

Captain Harris hung up the telephone and called for fifteen of the line's reserve troops. When they arrived, he briefed them on their mission. "Orders came in from HQ. All of you are to use the explosives brought in to destroy the main bridge to town while the rest of the line pulls back to our second line. You will all be divided into three seperate groups. Groups one and three will cover the advance of group two to the bridge as well as when they plant the eplosives; and do be quick about it. HQ reports that the Tako are due for reinforcements soon." … "Sir, yes sir!" replied all fifteen, as they then proceeded to move on though the many artillery craters to the bridge.

Both groups one and three used their portable mortars to keep the Octarians pinned down as group two made their way towards the bridge. Once they reached the bottom bridge (and luckily for them, the water of the Choral was not too deep), and under heavy fire from Octarian machine guns, they began to carefully place the explosive charges (bundles of dynamite) around the support beams; in the process of setting up the dynamite, two of the five inklings were splatted by the Octarian fire. Once the charges were in place and connected to the main charge via wire, they hurried back to the main line and pushed the lever down. The resulting explosion killed any Octarian soldiers on the bridge instantly, hurling any of the corpses that weren't blown to bits, and threw splinters of wood and shrapnel, both large and small, into the air. They all landed in every direction around the blast, the shrapnel injuring anyone within radius.

Once the three lines had fully retreated to the second defensive line"Sir, this is Captain Harris. The bridge has been destroyed, I repeat, the bridge has been destroyed." The captain reported to Cyril. "Very good captain. That will slow their advance greatly. Hold the line and draw the Octarians in, but you are not to advance your force beyond the defensive line. Our artillery is being moved into position, and command wants to avoid any friendly fire. After that, you are to hold your positions and await further orders" … "Understood loud and clear, sir." Cyril then hung up the telephone and sent a messenger with fire coordinates of the Octarian positions to the artillery; the message read:

 _\- "NEW TARGET AREA. GRIDLINE 7909 - 8227. MOVE UP TO GRIDLINE 5230 TO BE IN FULL RANGE OF PREDICTED OCTARIAN POSITIONS." -_

After sending out the messenger, Cyril then telephoned the lesser NCOs, telling them the same thing as he told Harris: to hold the line and draw the Octarians into the trap he had set up. He personally felt it unfortunate that proper phone lines could not be established with their main artillery units, but their supply of wire was limited, and it was either having efficient communication with their artillery or with their frontline units. After thinking more over the current situation, Cyril then went out of the room to fetch a drink before returning to monitor the battle with the other COs.

* * *

The Octarian's assault continued on several hours, with the inking defense holding despite an overwhelming force being presented before them. However, as soon as the Inkling reinforcements finally arrived, the Octarian offensive began to fell apart. Eventually, with the combined effort of the Inkling artillery and the coordinated infantry counter-attacks of the now-reinforced lines soon after, the Octarians were now threatened with complete encirclement, and thus forced to withdraw their troops and abandon their assault at the Choral River

With Octarian Plan now in shambles, their attempt at capturing Inkopolis was, for the time being, halted completely. The Octarians, now on the defensive and desperate to hold on to their captured land, retreated 359 miles from the Choral River and dug in, constructing a series of 200 mile long trench lines; the Inklings, in process of pushing the Octarians out of their borders and not wishing to be out-manuvered, did likewise. Their lines bended back and forth, in a futile effort by both sides to encircle the other. Before long, both reached the sea at each end of the trench line.

Neither of the sides could have any idea of the horrors, both old and new, that were to come throughout the next four, grueling years of war.

 **End of Act III**

 **Author's Note:  
** **Unfortunately, this update took longer than  
** **I would have prefered, due to the same  
** **reasons as last time (proofreader and  
myself preoccupied with schoolwork).  
**

 **Therefore, the next update may take even  
longer than this one. All I can ask of you,  
dear reader, is that you be patient with the  
next update of the fic. I can assure you that,  
despite priorties being focused on schoolwork,  
the next update will come as soon as it possibly  
can be. (Hopefully by the end of November; and  
yes, I do have plans for a holiday-centered chapter;  
those of you familiar with events in early WWI will  
know what I'm referring to)**

 **With all that said, for those still following the fic, dispite  
the delays with it, I thank you. Again, I will have the  
next update out as soon as possible.**


	5. Chapter 1 - Act IV

**16 August, 1914; Late Conch era**

 _Report [16-18-1914; 0400 HRS] :_

 _Field Marshal L. Seydlitz - 22nd Army Group_

 _The Inklings launched two offensives against our positions at approximately 2300 hours on the 15 of this month. Both were successfully repelled. The 55th Guard Corps sustained light casualties, and no infantry units were wounded in the engagement. The 55th and the 22nd continue advance on the town of Sanlöw, as scheduled._

 _One half was completely decimated save for two survivors, a private and a corporal. The other half was quickly routed 100 meters at the Yüllan River, with the engagement ending with their surrender._

 _The prisoner count of both armies combined is 38. They will be transferred to the prisoner outposts near the Inkling town of [Sӓnlodé] at precisely 0900 hours via transport vehicle. However, as the private and corporal have received serious injury to their limbs and torso prior to their capture, they will remain within custody of the 22nd until they are healthy enough to be taken to the prisoner outpost._

 _More so, the status of-_

* * *

Seydlitz was suddenly interrupted in his report when he heard what sounded like ink guns being fired off outside. Which is what he found to be an unusual occurrence. It couldn't be another Inkling assault, as not only would the scouts have informed him of any enemy activity, but the defences in the forest are too strong to be beaten by blind charges. Seydlitz grabbed his ink pistol and casually went outside to see the source of the ruckus.

Outside, he found that one of the two Inkling prisoners in his company care. Said prisoner, the corporal, was making an escape attempt out of the camp. The corporal was in a panicked hurry, occasionally shooting a stolen ink rifle at the Octarian troops in pursuit of him, all shots missing. It was not long, however, before the corporal had gotten himself surrounded by a few Octarian troops, all aiming their ink rifles at him. Seydlitz, with a heavy sigh an an annoyed expression on his face, walked over to the corporal.

"Stop it now, Inkling. It's over. Might I ask you what you sought to accomplish, with this escape and your charge?" Seydlitz said, in a loud voice, to which the Inkling corporal replied, "As if I would tell you, you-" … "'You' what?" Seydlitz said, cutting the corporal off. "You act as though we are at fault when your capture was the fault of your army." At this point, the corporal became enraged. "Don't you dare disrespect the Inkling army! The grand higher ups simply believed-" ... "Believed what, exactly?" Seydlitz said, cutting the corporal off again. "That a formation on open ground would go undefended?! Look at yourself! Who do you think you are?!"

The corporal, now realizing the futility of escape, dropped the stolen ink rifle into the muddied ground. "Nothing to say, Inkling?" Seydlitz asked, "As I thought. Take him back to the prisoner's quarters." As Seydlitz ordered, three of the Octarian soldiers grabbed the corporal's arms and took him back to where he and the private were being kept.

Holstering his ink pistol, Seydlitz returned to his personal tent, and continued writing out his report, making sure to leave a footnote of the corporal's failed escape. "If there are more Inklings as foolish as that one...", he thought, "...then this war will be over very soon."

* * *

Around midday, the 22nd began their long march towards Sanlöw, with the 55th following close behind. The two Inkling prisoners of war within the 22nd's custody were transported along with the battalion via military truck to what would serve as the forward command headquarters for the Octarian Army. They would be kept there until the they were healthy enough to be transported to the prison camp with the other Inkling soldiers.

The two army groups continued on for five days, facing little resistance within local Inkling squads, before they finally reached Sanlöw. Sanlöw housed the only train station that was entirely connected to the major rail systems throughout the Inkling and Octarian territories, therefore making it crucial to the Octarians to be captured; if Sanlöw falls, then the Octarians gain both a quick supply route and a direct path to the Inkling capital of Inkopolis.

The battle for Sanlöw had been a drawn out and costly one. What was originally thought to be a three day battle ended up becoming a week long battle. Casualties mounted on both sides, until the Inkling soldiers stationed there broke and were forced into retreat due to arriving Octarian reinforcements. During their retreat, the Inklings destroyed most of the railroad tracks and disabled all but two of the steam trains present; if Sanlöw's rails were to fall into Octarian hands, then the Inklings would make sure to give them the rails in shambles.

With Sanlöw's railway now under Octarian control, the 22nd began the repair of the steam trains the Inklings destroyed and the 55th used one of the trains to transport themselves to the next town; the other train was sent back to the closest Octarian city, Könsendberg, to transport supplies to the front lines. As the 55th traveled through, they captured multiple towns and villages along the railway towards Inkopolis, each having relatively weak defences, before finally arriving near the Inkling village of Lüffdow. It would be there, on the open, hilly grassland, that a pivotal part of the early war would happen.

* * *

It was consensus among the major empires that this war between Inklings and Octarians would only last only a few months, if not weeks. Previous wars in the past had lasted, at most, three months, and the empires though this one would be no different. Very soon, each of the empires, as well as their ideals, would march off into what would soon be the largest war in their entire history; a war that would soon span across their entire world, and affect each and every civilization, no matter the size; and it would be apparent that this war would be an exception to the standard in every way possible.

 **End of Act IV**

 **Author's Note: Again, I must apologize for  
the slow updates. Christmas for me and my  
proofreader proved to be somewhat of a  
hinderance to the update process.  
Additionally, with school starting back up for  
myself, as well as my proofreader, updates  
will continue to be at this slow of pace.**

 **I appreciate your patience with waiting for  
updates, dear reader, especially if you have  
been following this fic since it started.**


	6. Chapter Break I

**The End of 1914**

While the year has changed, the war still continues. The promises to the soldiers of a quick war by their commanders and generals, that they would all be home before winter set in, are now shattered. It has now become apparent, with the Inklings and Octarians not moving an inch from their now-prepared trench defence lines, that the war will be one of attrition. It is uncertain which side will be the first to break, or how long it will take before the side breaks.

While general staff plot out their offensives, politicians on both sides continue to pressure them to make massive, reckless offensives on the enemy, showing little regard for the ones doing the actual fighting, and how many of them die for minimal gains.

Both sides have pulled allies into their war, and soon others join in on the war out of their own freedoms; for the majority, the war provides opportunity to get even with those who've bested them in past wars. With allies being made, the war, ever hungry for more lives, soon increases its grip upon their world, and for some, it looks as though the war may soon grow to global proportions.

While there was a single day of peace in the winter, a candle of hope in the dark void of war, it was quickly snuffed out by the generals and politicians on both sides, worried their lovely war would quickly end.

With new technological advancements comes new ways for the two major belligerents to kill each other, with each becoming more and more impersonal; the war is nearing new heights once thought impossible, and the future may hold an even greater peak.


	7. Chapter 2 - A World at War - Act I

**15 January, 1915; Late-Conch Era**

* * *

 _Florence,_

 _Do not worry about me, I am still alive. I am a prisoner of the Octarians, and I  
am being well-treated. Please tell my family._

 _Fritz_

* * *

Fritz, after having finished his letter to another life-long friend living in Inkopolis (and the only address he managed to remember perfectly), placed the small postcard into an envelope and placed it into the postage tin sitting out by the warden's quarters.

It had been about five months since his capture and imprisonment in what would be known as the Skirmish of Hill 1 in later years. He had spent most of that month recovering from the wounds he had received under an Octarian company (he never heard the company name), and had begun to truly heal as he was dropped off at the prisoner of war camp in the Octarian borders. The camp itself was a jumbled mess of barracks, barbed wire, and other structures; the buildings looked as though they could fracture and collapse, the metal was rusted, and the piping was twisted and in disarray. It was obvious that the camp was made with a sloppy haste, save for the warden's quarters, which looked as though it had been there for some years prior.

The soldiers in the camp, while starting out as solely Inklings, eventually came to be those of a variety of differing species: Anemones, Urchins, and even the occasional Prawn; granted, these different species were in small numbers, as the Octarians had set up prison camps for each of their respective adversary in the war.

Fritz's daily routine was a simple one: wake up, breakfast (which was a cold, small portion of meat and a piece of bread, with an ounce of water), building repairs, a brief working break, field work, dinner, and sleep. As he was confined to a medical ward in the camp, he had been exempted from any straining work, but nearly as soon as his strength was regained, he was immediately put on the same schedule as the other prisoners; he was given the additional job of handling the camp's laundry, for prisoner of war and guard alike. While the first few weeks were especially tiring for him, as the work they were to do usually involved heavy lifting, Fritz found the work to be slightly less as the months went on.

It was in the fifth month of his imprisonment that he got wind of a "planned escape". It was always from a peculiar group of prisoners, two Colossal Squids, a Sea Urchin, and a Flying Squid, all from the same company. They always spent their time in a secluded part of the prisoner's meal tent, talking amongst themselves. The Octarian guards never seemed to care, as while it was somewhat suspicious, they assumed it was most likely discussing their resentment of imprisonment, and they couldn't care less on what they thought.

Eventually, Fritz was approached by one of the group members inside the prisoner barracks, one of the Colossal Squids by the name of Wilfrid.

"Oi, you! Get ove'r 'ere! Quickly now!" Wilfrid said quietly, pointing towards Fritz and gesturing for him to come over.  
"You wanted to see me?", Fritz asked "Yeah, I did. We need'a talk, you an' I.", Wilfrid replied "Talk? About what?", Fritz asked further. "Well, keep your damn trap shut, now will ya." Wilfrid said as he looked around for any guards. "Now, 'ere's the thing. Me an' a couple of lads were thinking of an escape from this hell-dump. After the guards go to their quarters for the night, we'll take som' o'the cutters 'ere, and get ourselv's out of 'ere."

Wilfrid then give Fritz a brief glimpse of a set of wire cutters he had stolen in his one of his uniform's side pockets, before closing it just as quickly as he opened it.

"Now, the lads an' I can't leave w'itout gettn' som' guard uniforms. That's where you come in. You'd be in laundry duty scrubbing uniforms clean, correct?"

"Yes, but you want me to steal guard uniforms?"

"No, I want ye to steal us some toothbrushes from the latrines, _of course I want ye to steal som' bloody uniforms!_ You'd be the perfect squid for the job."

Fritz immediately objected, saying, "B-but they collect every uniform hung up outside to dry after dusk, and they keep records of all uniforms! Stealing them would be-"

At this point, the sea urchin, Wojciech, spoke up. "Difficult, yes, but not entirely impossible. If we were to have all things prepared, the guard's check-up shouldn't be an issue."

"Right then, we 'ave our escape time. All's we lad's need are the uniforms. Ye got that, boy? Ye in with escaping?", Wilfrid asked Fritz.

"...I have the feeling you all won't let me say no." Fritz said, in a somewhat deadpan tone.

"Yeah, we'll kill ye if ye say no. Can't 'ave ye blabbin to the guards, now can we?" Wilfrid replied. Sighing, Fritz made up his mind, "Then I've not much of a choice, do I? Okay, I'm in." Wilfrid smiled, "Ye made a good call, there. We'll meet back at this spot come sunset." As they began to disperse, Fritz asked, "Wait, what about the patrols? They'll spot us for sure." Wojciech then spoke up, "Don't worry about that, we have it covered. Just get us those uniforms." After that, Wojciech went his own way, leaving Fritz by himself.

* * *

 **Evening - 7:35PM**

Fritz was taking care of his usual routines in the laundry room, scrubbing uniforms clean and hanging them to dry outside. He then thought of how he would go about getting the uniforms and not get caught. " _The last uniform check is around this time. I might be able to make off with five if I get them after the second check, but the lieutenant always makes his rounds at around that time to collect the uniforms, and curfew happens just a few minutes after. All I can hope for is that those others will pull through."_

Soon, the sun began to set, and an octarian soldier checked on uniforms drying on the clothes-rack. "..36, 37, 38, 39, 40. We'll be back in twenty minutes to collect the uniforms." He said as he walked back to the officer's depot to submit the report on the uniforms. Fritz was left with only a few minutes to take the uniforms to the four, and hope that they can escape before the octarian lieutenant goes to collects the uniforms and notices the one's missing. He quickly took from the few uniforms that had dried completely and hurried off. Fritz himself was never told where to go, but made an assumption that it was where he had met the four, inside the barracks.

On his way, he took notice at the surprising lack of octarian guards in the area. He assumed that it was Wilfrid and his group's doing, and that they probably paid off the guards; as for the how, he did not wish to think about it. When he got to the barracks, he noticed that Wojciech was waiting outside. "You're here. Honestly, I thought you'd be to frightened to follow through, but here you are. Get inside, we don't have much time." As Fritz walked in, he was greeted with some light applause as Wojciech took four of the five uniforms he brought. "Good t'see ye make the right choice, kid." Wilfrid said in a cheerful tone. "I didn't have much of a choice." Replied Fritz. "No, you didn't." Wilfrid responded.

After several minutes, they left the barracks wearing the stolen uniforms and walked towards the east gate. Still, there wasn't a guard anywhere in the vicinity, and Fritz began to feel unsettled. He figured that [Wilson's] lot bribed the east guards as well, but that still didn't calm his nerves. When they reached the east gate, Wojciech got to work on cutting the barbed wire while the others kept watch of any other guards. Fritz still retained an uneasy feeling, as their escape was simply _too easy_. He told himself it was because of the other's bribe to calm himself, but the uneasiness would just not leave him. As he finished collecting his thoughts, he saw that Wojciech had finished cutting the wires. He then realized that he had gotten this far with this group, and yet never knew their names. Fritz then figured that it wasn't necessary, as he would likely never see them again after this escape.

As soon as they all were on the outside of the east gate, the nearby guard towers search lights suddenly flickered on; the sirens rung loudly, and distant shouting could be heard. Fritz had feared this would happen, that they would incidentally spring a trap. Before he had the time to think, the search lights shined down on the group, the lights blinding them.

 **END OF ACT I**

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

 **I must apologize for the tardiness with the chapter update.  
Firstly, school had taken up the majority of my time, and  
secondly, I had run into a rut, and for the longest time I  
ended up procrasinating on writing until now. Again, I  
apologize for my tardiness, and I thank those who have  
stayed with this story despite the delay.**

 **On one final note, I do plan on expanding the viewpoint  
of the war past this main front and onto other fronts,  
since this is a world war. Perhaps there may be a special  
appearance by certain someones you should be well  
acquainted with if you've played the first game. Or  
perhaps I've said too much.**


End file.
